The Prodigy
by pierremenard99
Summary: What was Bastila's role in the events of KOTOR 2? This story will explore her actions, along the way hopefully filling some of the gaps in the story of KOTOR 2.


He was drunk. Lonely. Disappointed. His mission was a failure. He had such high hopes when he first set foot here a month ago, when he walked among the farms and thought back to the days when this place was teeming with students, teachers, all dedicated to the lifelong contemplation of the force.

He motioned the bartender for another drink.

A month on this planet - surrounded by farmers who knew or cared for nothing beyond the immediate concern of their crops and bureaucrats who never moved an inch in response to his requests - ended up revealing little of importance. Everyone here seemed to have developed an irrational hatred of all things Jedi, and it turned out to be impossible to find anyone who would agree to work with him, even after he offered a hefty portion of his savings for a monthly salary. But he was still optimistic at first, hopeful that he would find something searching alone among the ruins of the former Jedi academy - something which will shed some light on the events he saw daily in the holovids, events which made no sense, no sense at all.

But weeks of trudging through the ruins revealed nothing. The salvagers had already taken everything which was easy to get to, and the ruins were filled with monsters, a spidery breed whose name he didn t know - perhaps one of the new species of vicious creatures that seemed to be arising all over the galaxy. He was not skilled enough with a blaster to go far into the ruins alone, and the going rate for professional mercenaries on this planet seemed astronomical.

What did he hope to find, anyway?

He didn't even know.

He spent weeks trying to activate what he assumed was the main computer of the old Jedi enclave. It was too big to haul out of the ruins, and so he labored away, replacing component by component, never forgetting to listen for the quick taps of small feet which signified it was time to get out the blaster and make sure your back was facing the wall. He became the laughing stock of the scavengers, by whose campfire he walked into the enclave ruins every morning and came out empty handed at night. After a while, the kinder among them took pity on him; nowdays, they were always trying to gift him some worthless Jedi trinket with instructions on selling it to gullible tourists.

And then, one day, it was done. He pulled the last switch, and the wires brimmed with electricity, the computer hummed and purred as it came to life. What secrets lurk here, he wondered? What shall I find?

"Nelios Kahh. A+ lightsaber mastery, C- Jedi code, C meditation. Master Dogarr has expressed interest in this student as a potential padawan. "

"Vera Cain, C lightsaber mastery, A Jedi code, A meditation. "

"Broda Dabro . B lightsaber mastery, D Jedi code, D meditation. Student placed on probation in lieu of yielding to her anger."

Report cards. He went through the files, hoping there was more, but it was all report cards. He was overcome with a fit of laughter, a fit which landed him on the floor and which stopped as abruptly as it began.

But the worst happened yesterday. He was in the ruins again, trying to activate another computer system and having a devils time of it, when he heard the sound of blaster fire and the solid taps of humanoid feet. He made sure his blaster was handy, and stood to face the door, which opened, and revealed a Jedi, an actual live, human Jedi.

Not just any Jedi, either. As he squinted his eyes, he recognized a famous general of a decade past, someone he read about every day when he was a child obsessed with news of the war. The universe had smiled upon him. Here he was, stretched to the utmost of his - and he was the first to admit it - limited abilities, squeezing a modicum of information from an ancient collection of wires; and now he would simply pose his questions to someone who knew the answers. He was speechless for a moment.

But the Jedi mumbled a polite greeting - apparently unsurprised at having found a lone human this far into the dilapidated, monster-infested ruins - looked around, and swiftly headed for the exit. He rushed over and asked a single question - the first of the many which popped into his mind. The Jedi paused for a moment, gave him another lookover, and replied vaguely, revealing nothing useful, and was out the door before he could even open his mouth again.

To come so close to finding out the answers, and to get nothing from it!

He dreaded going back to ruins now, to the new computer which probably held only more of the old administrative bookkeeping. Yesterday s incident kept brimming in his mind, and even the copious amounts of alcohol he had been consuming seemed unable to drown it. Was there something I could have said, he wondered? Some magic utterance which would have made this Jedi take an interest in me, and reveal at least some of the secrets I seek to find?

He was brought out of his reverie by the glimpse of a beautiful woman sitting down three stools away. She entered into his field of vision for only a moment - enough to leave an impression of a perfectly proportioned face, and gray-blueish eyes which shone brightly above the brownish hue of her clothes.

He hesitated for a moment - but he didn t want to think about the Jedi any longer, and he simply had to see that face again - and so he turned to her, and, with voice quivering, offered to buy her a drink.

Drinks, he thought to himself bitterly, one of the great constants of the galaxy, with its billions of inhabited worlds and many times that number of cultures. No matter where you found yourself, it was always a good idea to offer to buy a woman a drink.

She turned her face in his direction the barest amount - enough to give him a quick glance which seemed to run over his body - and replied with a curt, "If you please," before turning her face back. "If you please" was something the inhabitants of this world said, and it was halfway between a no and a yes.

He got a better look at her. His first impression was right - she was strikingly beautiful. Not a mercenary, definitely not a scavenger, dressed with a sparse elegance - most likely a local. Her hair, a lovely shade of brown, was wrapped in an unusual bun, with bangs framing her face and a playful ponytail in the back. She seemed oddly familiar, and for a moment he thought he must know who she was - had he not seen her, or someone very much like her, on the holovids a long time ago? But no one came to mind. No, she must be a local.

He motioned for another drink, which the droid bartender dutifully brought while chirping along in the local patois. She took it and gave him the smallest of nods.

"Are you from around here?" he asked, in the most casual voice he could muster.

"Yes," she said. "I work in the administrative building not far from here."

"Doing what?" he asked.

She gave a noncommittal shrug. There seemed to be no point in inquiring further. He tried hard to think of something to say.

"I'm visiting this world for a while," he said conversationally.

"Our planet is quite beautiful," she replied without looking at him. She seemed to be scanning the room; her eyes quickly passed over the Mandalorian mercenary, the table of pazaak players, and settled on the Twilek musician. "Have you tried some of the tours? They are quite cheap, and showcase much of our fascinating history. There are also some interesting ruins popular with many tourists."

The musician seemed to have noticed her gaze and smiled at her. He felt a new wave of despair. He might as well take a risk.

"In fact, that is why I am here. I am a scientist and historian, you see, of the Jedi."

He put as much emphasis on the last word as he could.

She turned to look at him with newfound interest, seeing him again as if for the first time. He breathed with relief; any mention of the Jedi usually brought forth nothing but revulsion here.

"Indeed! Quite interesting. Tell me - pardon I did not catch your name?"

"Mical."

"Pleased to meet you, Mical. Tell me more about your work - and above all,  
what are you doing here, on Dantooine?"

He began rambling. The first words out of his mouth were, strangely, "I should say that most of my contemporaries would consider me more of a historian than a scientist..."

She was very attentive. 


End file.
